


Fiction Turned to Truth

by angellwings



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, One Shot, Possible Spoilers, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: On any other day, Matt wouldn’t have been hovering by Tower mere minutes after Sylvie left for a call. On any other day, Sylvie wasn’t under threat from some gun weidling criminal. On any other day, he’s not worried about her having the necessary back up.But today is not any other day.And thank god it isn’t becauseon any other dayhe wouldn’t have heard the 10-1 over the radio and would have been left to wait for the bells to go off.But not five minutes after 61 drove away, Mackey’s voice pierces the air around him,“Emergency! This is Ambulance 61 requesting a 10-1!”
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 66
Kudos: 225





	Fiction Turned to Truth

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** You guys asked and I stayed up WAY TOO LATE to deliver lol. Here is the one shot based on the Brettsey promo! So I dissected the promo and tried to use every moment in it as well as the sneak peeks we’ve gotten so far. BUT let me stress, THIS IS STILL SPECULATION. I have my own ideas for what order the promo clips will happen in the episode so that’s what I wrote. But most of the time, when it comes to spec fic, I AM WAY WRONG, lol.
> 
> I also did not go into the spoilery footage from 902 filming (no one mention what it was in the comments let’s keep this as spoiler free as possible) and I didn’t really go into the clip from the promo of them at Molly’s Patio (though it does get a mention). I could have kept going to include it, but it’s late and I’m tired and tomorrow is premiere day so I want this up before then.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Xoxo
> 
> PS - one more note at the end

_“You just fell out of the sky,_

_The best things come when you don't even try._

_Lighting in a bottle doesn't happen twice,_

_The kind of gospel that saves you just in time._

_The myth of me and you is fiction turned to truth,_

_Most loves don't make it through,_

_But the great ones do.”_

_-“Great Ones” by Maren Morris_

On any other day, Matt wouldn’t have been hovering by Tower mere minutes after Sylvie left for a call. On any other day, Sylvie wasn’t under threat from some gun weidling criminal. On any other day, he’s not worried about her having the necessary back up.

But today is not any other day.

And thank god it isn’t because _on any other day_ he wouldn’t have heard the 10-1 over the radio and would have been left to wait for the bells to go off.

But not five minutes after 61 drove away, Mackey’s voice pierces the air around him, _“Emergency! This is Ambulance 61 requesting a 10-1!”_

In his head, he always feared he might freeze up when someone he cared about needed him most, but in reality he’d never moved faster in his life. He’s barking out orders to Kidd, Gallo, and Mouch within seconds telling them to gear up.

He runs to Boden’s office to make sure he’s in the loop and sprints past Severide on his way back to 81.

“Ambo called for a 10-1,” he shouts.

The bells go off, indicating there was an incident involving 61 on the 18th Street Bridge, just as Casey reaches the truck. He pauses long enough to throw on the bottom half of his bunker gear and boots but throws his turn out coat and gloves in the seat. He climbs in, shuts the door, and slaps the side of the truck.

“Floor it,” he orders Kidd toward the apron. “Let’s go!”

Kidd takes off, jolting 81 to life, and asks him for information as they go. “61 called a 10-1?”

Matt nods as he’s putting on his gloves.

“Who made the call?” She asks, worriedly.

“Mackey,” Casey answers, his voice clipped and angry. “No other details. Just a 10-1.”

It’s Halleck. He has no doubt. The fact that Brett of all people is the one threatened by this bastard has come close to causing Casey’s temper to boil over for almost four days now. There’s no chance he’s going to be able to hold back on this guy if he ever comes face to face with him now.

“Nothing else from them since?” Mouch asks, from the back.

Not a damn peep.

He shakes his head and grabs his radio, pulling it to his mouth. “61, report!”

Silence. And in addition to the silence still no sign of them as they reach 18th Street. So he tries again.

“61, _do you hear me_?”

Dead air greets him again. He intends to just let the radio drop but in his anger and haste he ends up throwing it. Gallo’s eyes widen and Stella winces, but neither say a word. They’re pulling on to the bridge now and there’s still no sign of 61 or Halleck.

“We should have seen them by now,” he tells Kidd.

He needs a visual. Some tangible proof that they were here. Or else they’re looking at a much scarier situation than an _incident_. His eyes are wildly scanning every inch of the road in front of them looking for any shred of evidence, but he still isn’t finding anything.

“Woah! Hang on!” Kidd calls out, pointing up ahead to a broken section of guardrail. 

His blood turns to ice in his veins. No one knows better than a Firefighter what a _broken guardrail_ means. Sure enough, just beyond it are the crumpled smoking remains of Ambulance 61 laying on it’s side. He narrows his eyes and leans forward in his seat, trying to get a better look, but it doesn’t help. There’s no further sign of Brett or Mackey. 

_Shit_.

“Down there! Take a quick right!” He demands. When the truck doesn’t turn as fast as he wants it to, he bangs his hand on the dash and turns his head -- yelling sharply. “Kidd!”

“Hold on! I’m trying!” She responds, sounding immensely less frustrated than himself.

He hears it -- the desperation in his voice. He just doesn’t give a damn. And if he doesn’t give a damn, then why the hell is he waiting for the truck to stop?

“Let me out!” He insists.

“Hold on! I’m gonna turn around!”

Fuck holding on. _Fuck_ turning around. That’s Brett down there in an unknown amount of danger. He’s not _holding on_ for anyone or anything. Before he can second guess himself, he opens his door and jumps, using the momentum for a running start. He barely registers Kidd’s alarmed voice calling after him. He might catch shit later, but what the fuck does that matter if Sylvie’s seriously hurt?

His hand brushes the ground restoring his balance before he picks up speed and high tails it toward the overpass. He’s delayed by a few seconds while he looks for a safe spot to jump. He finds a spot beyond the rail where the dirt rises up to meet the concrete wall. It’s only a drop of a few feet. He’s launched himself off of taller drops than that. He can make it.

He hurdles himself over it, landing on bended knees. He looks up as he takes off again and his breath catches in his throat. The blonde figure hopping down from the driver’s side door of the ambo is a figure he’d recognize anywhere.

He passes a hissing smoking pile of wreckage that looks like an overturned SUV as he runs in a straight unbroken line toward the ambulance.

“Brett!” He yells as soon as he’s close enough.

She turns toward him and relief lights up her face. She takes two leaping steps toward him, but he eats up the space between them quicker than she does. He wraps his arms around her, squeezing tightly, only remembering after that she might be hurt. He jerks back but keeps a solid grip on her upper arms.

“What happened? Are you hurt anywhere? Can you move okay?”

One gloved hand, leaves her upper arm as his fingers grip her chin. He angles her face from left to right and up and down, looking for any signs of lacerations or bumps. He’s lost in checking her for injuries, frantic with concern. It takes her hand clamping around his wrist to bring him back down to Earth.

“I’m okay,” she insists. “I’m really okay. Mackey has a laceration on her head and a possible concussion but she’s awake and alert.”

He blows out a long shaking breath and pulls her to him again. This time her arms wrap around him in return. “You scared the hell out of me, Sylvie.”

She nestles her head into the curve of his neck and her fingers fist in the back of his jacket. He hears her quivering inhale and has to fight the urge to press his lips to her temple.

“I scared the hell out of myself,” she whispers. Suddenly she takes a gasping breath and jerks away from him, eyes wide with fear and scanning their surroundings. “Wait, Halleck! He forced us off the overpass! He had a gun. He was driving a black SUV--” She freezes mid sentence as she spots the SUV he passed to reach her. She nods toward it, swallowing thickly. “Like that one.”

He glances between her and the black vehicle. It landed on it’s roof and, to Matt’s eyes, it looked completely flattened. “There’s no chance that he survived that.”

“I’ve got to check,” Sylvie tells him fiercely. “If he’s alive we have to treat him.”

“Treat hi--he tried to kill you,” Matt exclaims with a confounded expression.

“That doesn’t mean we’re allowed to let him die.”

Matt huffs and grits his teeth through an obligatory agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.” Though he really wishes she wasn’t. Truck pulls up just as Sylvie takes a step toward the SUV.

“Hey,” Matt instinctively yells, holding out a hand to stop her. Her eyes narrow angrily on his for a flashing moment and he immediately knows to soften his tone. “Wait for me before you walk over there, please. If he did survive he has a gun and he’s still a threat to you. I’m not letting you go alone.”

She gulps but wordlessly nods. He keeps an eye on her as he makes his way toward Kidd. 

“Mackey’s still in the ambo, laceration across her forehead, possible concussion,” Matt says, briefing them on the circumstances. “Brett and I are gonna check on the other vehicle. Start on getting Mack free.”

“Copy that, Captain,” Stella says dutifully. But despite her agreement he sees a dry expression on her face and the reproach in her eyes. “Be _careful_.”

Sylvie digs through the wreckage, finding 61’s jump bag and slinging it over her shoulder. There are more sirens in the distance and he knows that’s another ambo on it’s way to the scene.

“You know you don’t have to do this yourself,” he tells her as they march toward the ambo. “We can wait for another ambo.”

“We can but maybe _he_ can’t,” she fires back, quickening her pace.

Matt pushes himself in front of her, determined to at least shield her from any _additional_ danger. He kneels down, carefully peering inside the overturned vehicle. Halleck is crushed between the roof, seat, and steering wheel. Broken and twisted. Matt reaches in to check the pulse on his neck, verifying what he already knows to be true.

He glances over his shoulder at Sylvie and shakes his head. “He’s gone. Probably died on impact.”

She spins away from him, facing the ambo, and bends at the waist. The jump bag falls to the ground as she doubles over and braces her hands on her knees. Her breathing turns labored and harsh and a curtain of her blonde hair hides her face.

 _Shit_.

Her adrenaline spiked high while she had something to do, someone to focus on, but now that she doesn’t -- it’s crashing.

His hand finds her back, rubbing soothing circles. “You’re okay,” he assures her. “Mackey’s okay. Breathe, Sylvie. You gotta breathe.”

She nods slowly and then takes a long breath in through her nose before exhaling through her mouth. After about five focused breaths, she stands upright and faces him with red watery eyes. 

“How--” She cuts herself off when her voice cracks. Shakes her head and then tries again. “How did I make it out of that alive? It doesn’t make sense, Matt. We went over the overpass _cab first_. Have you seen the front of the rig? There’s no way Mackey and I walk away from that as whole as we are!”

He shakes his head at her, pulling her closer but resisting the urge to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t go down that road. I’ve been there. You’re here because you’re supposed to be. That’s the end of it.”

Another ambo pulls up and parks next to 81. Matt sees it as an opportunity to turn her focus back to the job at hand. “Come on, let’s get you and Mackey checked out, okay? It’d make me feel better if _someone else_ pronounces you miraculously unharmed.”

She snorts out a watery chuckle and smiles weakly at him. “You don’t trust my self diagnosis, huh?”

“You claim to be _fine_ more often than you actually are,” Casey says with a teasing quirk of his brow. “So, no, I don’t.”

“Takes one to know one, Matt Casey,” Sylvie mutters with a tight smile as they head toward Truck and the two ambos.

He laughs quietly but nods in resignation. She’s got him there and they both know it.

******

The medics clear Sylvie but opt to take Mackey to Med in accordance with concussion protocols. Boden arrives on scene just in time to let Mackey know he’ll reach out to her family and offer to give Brett a ride back to the house in his buggy. Burgess arrives on scene not long after that and takes Sylvie’s statement. She tells Boden she’ll catch up with Mackey later to get her statement as well. They release the scene to Burgess and Intelligence and head back to the house. 

Gallo and Mouch sit silently in the back, not daring to say a word about the way this call began. He’s grateful for that, but as usual his luck doesn’t hold out forever because Kidd isn’t anywhere near as merciful as Mouch and Gallo.

“So,” Kidd says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “That was different.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Casey replies. “Sylvie was in danger and I _acted_. Simple as that.”

“You _acted_?” Stella asks with a wry chuckle. “You jumped out of a moving vehicle! Are you gonna put that in your report because if you do then I wanna be in the room when Boden reads it.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” he says, in his most authoritative voice. “I did what I had to do. End of story. Understood?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kidd says with an emphatic nod. “I understand.” She turns to look at him briefly with a pointed expression. “ _Do you_?”

No, quite frankly, _he doesn’t_.

The minute he found out Sylvie’s life was threatened the world narrowed. It was just him and her and one simple truth. There was no way in hell he was losing her. The minute the Truck pulls back into the house he’s afraid Sylvie will find out what he did or that she’ll put together how much time passed between him popping up at her side and Truck pulling around to the Ambo. He’s not sure why he’s afraid of that. He suspects deep down he knows the minute she does, it’ll change things. 

She’ll see straight through him and then if she doesn’t feel what he--

Well, it’ll change things.

And right now things are good. Things are _very_ good.

He’s happy. In large part because of her.

Yes, okay, he’s had several moments over the last several months at least where he’s thought about taking that next step with her. But every moment he considers it is followed by doubts. Lots and lots of doubts. Not about _her_. No, she’s been nothing but wonderful.

 _About him_.

He failed _spectacularly_ with Gabby. (And Hallie too, if he’s honest.) What leads him to believe that he’d fare any better with Sylvie? She’s too good. Too kind. Too patient. He’d fuck it up. He always does. And he _can’t_ fuck up what he has with her. 

It’s the best thing currently happening in his life.

If he goes there and she doesn’t go with him -- or worse, if they both go there and it falls apart -- then that would all be over and he’d never forgive himself.

Yes, he almost lost her today. Yes, he knows he shouldn’t take her for granted. 

But he’s not, is he? Not really. He’s not assuming she’ll always be there. Not anymore. But he is trying to preserve the wholesome things the Universe allows him to have. Because, let’s be honest, it doesn’t let him have _much_.

He’s caught up in his thoughts as he marches into the bunkroom and almost misses Sylvie calling his name.

He turns on a dime, facing her with a half distracted and half concerned expression. She’s holding a towel and her shower kit in her arms -- still covered in dirt and dust from the crash.

“Boden’s sending me home for the day,” she tells him. “I’m gonna clean up and change out so I can head home. I’m exhausted.” 

He nods, but can’t shake his feeling of concern because her eyes are still shrouded in something somber. He can’t put his finger on exactly _what_ it is though.

“About earlier, when you found me at the accident--”

His brow furrows deeper as he swallows nervously. This is it. She knows. She’s put together how he got to her so fast--

“I just wanted to thank you,” she tells him, her expression softening. “For always showing up.”

He feels a satisfied smile stretching across his face. It grows wider and wider as she continues.

“I mean, you’re always the one who’s there for me in a crisis,” she says, smiling warmly. “And I know I was a bit of a mess so I just wanted to thank you for sticking that out with me.” The warmth in her expression dims slightly. Her eyes leave his and she ducks her head. Her expression changes but the heartfelt nature of her voice does not, though he swears he hears something sad lacing through her next words. “You’re a good friend, Casey. And good friends are hard to find.”

He doesn’t know why but that comment doesn’t sit right with him but it _doesn’t_. Her words hit his ears and dig in, squirming uncomfortably inside his head. There’s a beat of tense silence as he searches for a response. His smile slips but not too far. He doesn’t want her to read his disappointment and feel guilty for not feeling what he does. 

Although, wasn’t he _just_ telling himself it was better if things stayed the same?

Make up your damn mind, Casey.

“You don’t need to thank me, Brett,” he says, his smile turning into a sideways grin. “I’m glad I’m your friend.”

She nods and pushes her hair out of her face, pressing her lips together with a wan expression. “Good,” she says, clearing her throat. “That’s good.” She shifts the towel and bottles in her arms, leaning her weight on one foot and then the other. “Well, I’m gonna go--you know, clean up. I’ll see you next shift.”

He nods and waves as she walks away. Regretting staying silent as soon as she turns her back on him. What was _that_? Why did that feel so incredibly painful? He blows out a frustrated breath and rubs a hand over his face. He’s an idiot. He’s an idiot who needs to sort himself out once and for all.

Her _friend_ comment slithers around in his head for the remainder of his shift. It moves deeper and deeper toward the core of him. Winding around everything until the discomfort he felt in his head seeps into his entire body. He told himself that’s what he wanted but is it really?

He’s rereading his report on the wreck for the fourth time, still not even past proofreading the third sentence, when Severide knocks on his door. He blinks, shakes himself and looks up.

“Hey,” he greets.

Severide nods. “Hey, you good? We haven’t talked since you got back from Brett’s 10-1--”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replies, cutting him off. He doesn’t really want to think about that right now.

“Okay,” Severide says, looking as if he doesn’t believe him. “So, I called Burgess about 61. They took it to the impound lot. Sounds like it’s totaled?”

Matt scoffs bitterly and shakes his head. “Yeah, it’s definitely that.”

He remembers the flattened and twisted front end and the smoke billowing from the radiator and gulps back fresh emotions.

“I was thinking I’d go and get Shay’s door after shift,” Severide says, looking down at his feet and scratching the back of his neck. “Would you mind coming with me? I’m gonna need your truck to haul it.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quickly, knowing that every memory of Shay is important -- especially to Severide. “Of course. We’ll go as soon as we’re off.”

“Thank you,” Severide replies with a small relieved smile. He starts to walk away but stops, turning back to Matt with a smirk. “Did you really jump out of 81 _while_ Stella was driving it?”

Matt sighs and nods, but says nothing in the way of an excuse or an explanation.

Severide chuckles and shakes his head at him. “Dumbass. Though, surprisingly, not the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“What, you mean like jumping under an elevator car?” Matt asks with a grimace.

“Sure, yeah,” Kelly quips sarcastically. “We’ll go with that.”

Matt’s brow furrows at him, unsure what he means.

Severide rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Think about it. I’m sure it’ll come to you. Meet you out front at the end of shift?”

“Yeah, yeah, meet you out front,” he repeats. Though, he’s still distracted by trying to figure out which particularly dumb thing Severide’s referring to.

******

When shift ends, Matt changes out and finds Severide leaning against his truck.

“You figure out which dumb thing I meant yet?” His friend asks with a smirk.

“I would say jumping off of a roof into a river but you did that too so I doubt that’s it.”

Severide laughs loudly. “Oh that was definitely dumb, but that’s not the one I mean, no.”

They get in the truck and head off toward the impound lot. When they get there they talk to the officer in charge of the lot and he leads them through a winding maze of cars and trailers and campers until they arrive at Ambo 61. Well, the _former_ Ambo 61, Matt supposes. 

“You’re all clear to take the door,” the guy says. “You remember your way out?” 

They nod and he walks away without any further acknowledgement from them. 

“Damn,” Severide says as he circles the rig. “Brett and Mackey came out of that with only one concussion between the two of them?”

At Matt’s nod, Severide whistles long and low. 

“How the hell did they manage that?”

Matt looks from Severide to the golden name painted on the driver’s side door. “Maybe Shay was looking out for them.”

Severide smiles, looking sad but fond. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

“Something else?”

“Yeah, like a sign from the universe that it’s time for you to stop being such a dumbass,” Severide tells him, lightly slapping the back of Matt’s head. “Come on, man, you jump out of a moving truck for her and then you let her walk away believing some bullshit line about being glad to be her friend?”

“You _heard that_?” Matt asks in horrified surprise. He stops and then huffs, shoulders slumping. “You think _that’s_ the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, don’t you?”

Kelly gives him a flat look in response.

“Yeah, okay, I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Now, you sound like, Kidd.”

“Look at this rig, Casey!” Severide says, waving an arm at the flattened front end. “What else has to happen for you to do something?”

He doesn’t know why they have to talk about this. Severide normally minds his business. What’s different about now? Why is he pressing the issue _now_?

“Does it matter? It’s my life and my mistake,” Casey snaps.

“Yeah, it matters. Man, you almost got yourself killed today trying to save her. Do you think _maybe_ you went to such extreme measures because you’ve been _shoving it all down_ for months? You can only keep things in for so long before you explode. Trust me, I’ve been there. So, what’s the hold up? What’s keeping you from telling Brett what you _really_ want?”

Finally frustrated with both Severide and himself, he can’t take it anymore. He says the first words that come to mind, shouting them above the silence that surrounds them.

“I’m gonna screw it up!” he yells.

Okay, that felt strangely good to say out loud.

“She’s the best thing I have going for me right now outside of the Firehouse and if I take it any further I’m gonna ruin it! Just like I’ve done with every other relationship I’ve ever had,” he says, continuing to shout. “I can’t go through that again and I can’t do that _to her_.”

“You don’t _know_ you’re gonna screw it up, Casey.”

“Yes I do! What exactly is different this time that might keep that from happening?”

“You are, you idiot!” Severide yells with a dry laugh. “You’re not the same guy that dove under an elevator two years ago. Not to mention, you’d be trying with _Sylvie Brett_. The most unfailing kind human I think I’ve ever met. And just as unselfish as _you are_ which is not an easy bar to meet. Believe me, I’ve been trying for years.”

Matt sighs and shakes his head. Not wanting to believe it, even if he can feel the epiphany coming.

“Look at the rig, man,” Severide urges him. “ _Really_ look at it.”

He takes a deep breath and does as he’s asked. He looks up and takes in the whole ambulance. The flattened front end, the twisted undercarriage, the busted back doors, _the blood_ staining the passenger side ceiling -- no doubt from the cut on Mackey’s forehead.

But most importantly, he thinks as he steps up to the driver’s side, is the fact that Sylvie’s seat is almost completely untouched. The steering column is exactly where it should be, the seat belt didn’t even need to be cut because it didn’t jam, the window in the door broke into perfect tiny pieces that cleared the frame _just so_ \-- preventing any jagged glass from cutting her skin. 

Sylvie didn’t just _survive_. She was _protected_. Somehow, someway, she was _shielded_ from any harm. It didn’t make sense. Sylvie was right on the scene today. She shouldn’t have walked away. And if she shouldn’t have walked away then that means…

“I should’ve lost her today,” Matt says out loud, with audible amazement. “And if I had then she…”

“Keep going,” Severide says, leaning against Leslie’s door.

It’s weird but for a moment, Matt can almost see Shay standing next to Kelly -- smirking at both of them. But he blinks and the vision is gone. Jesus, this has been a strange day.

“If I’d lost her she never would have known how I feel.”

“There it is,” Severide says with a grin. “ _Finally_. So, now what?”

“We get this door and I get the hell over to Sylvie’s.”

“About damn time,” Kelly replies, grinning triumphantly. “So, go.”

“What?” Matt asks in confusion. “You said you needed--”

“Stella’s coming with her Jeep. I’m good.”

Matt narrows his eyes at Kelly. “So, you didn’t really need my help. You just brought me here to look at the--”

“Yep.”

“Jackass.”

“Hey, that’s _Lieutenant_ Jackass to you.”

******

For the second time in twelve hours, Matt finds himself running to Sylvie Brett. This time, though, he parks his truck _before_ he starts running. He steps into the familiar lobby and opts for the stairs this time. Standing still and waiting for the elevator is not an option. He’d _lose it_ if he had to stand still right now. He reaches her hallway and rounds the corner -- his eyes trained on her door. He gulps as he stares at the 4B on her door, leaning a hand against the door jamb to catch his breath.

 _Knock_ , _moron!_

So he does. Though he’s so worked up that it sounds more like aggressive banging than a knock.

The door swings open, revealing Sylvie’s startled face.

“Hi,” she says slowly, taking him in from head to toe.

He does the same. Her hair is pulled back, bringing her crystal blue eyes and fair skin into sharp focus. Not a single scrape or bruise to be found. Another reminder of just how _lucky_ they were today. 

“Hi,” he echoes, dragging his gaze up her neck and jaw to stop on her pink full lips. What would she do if he kissed her? Would she kiss him back? Would she push him away? Would it be awkward?

“Is everything okay?” She asks, stepping into his space.

When he doesn’t respond and it’s clear his eyes are stuck on her lips, her eyes drop to his and stay there for a lingering moment before working their way upward again.

“Matt? Are you okay?” She asks again.

After she asks a second time, he finds his voice. “No. Not really. Can we...can we talk?”

She looks confused but open to it. She steps back inside her apartment and gives him space to come in. “Sure, come on in. Do you want a beer?”

No. No relaxing. If he relaxes he’ll chicken out.

“I’m good,” he says, clearing his throat and scratching at the back of his neck.

“Do you...wanna sit?” She asks with a concerned glance while she motions to her couch.

“No.”

Her eyes narrow on him but a second later she flashes him a small amused smile and shrugs. “Okay. Then what is it you _do_ want?”

There it is. The opening he’s been waiting for. On a silver platter.

He gulps, takes a deep fortifying breath, and shoots his shot. “You.”

Her eyes widen and her lips part. He watches her chest heave for a short moment and then finally she responds. “Me?”

He nods and makes sure to maintain eye contact as he continues. “I don’t want to just be there for you _in a crisis_ , Sylvie. Nor do I only want to be your friend. I want _you_. All of you. I have for a long time. Through round two of Sheffield and whatever that Ryan guy was to you and whoever else has come into your life that I haven’t known about, through all of that I have wanted _you_. And I never said anything because...because at first I didn’t quite know what it was but then once I did we were so close and you’re too important to me to lose so I--I kept chickening out.”

Slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. She blushes and her eyes glisten joyfully. “You’ve wanted me since _Kyle_?”

He winces and nods his head, remembering his pathetic first attempt at asking her out. “Tried to ask you out not long before he proposed but I, um, I talked myself out of it. I thought you had gotten back together with him and I didn’t want to get in the way of that.” He shakes his head, brushing off the memory and gets back to his point. “It doesn’t matter. Look, I get it if you don’t feel what I feel or if you don’t want to take a chance at it, but you almost died today and I can’t go to work every third day knowing how much we both risk our lives and not at least know that I put it all out there. So, that’s it. That’s what I came here to say.”

Silence falls over them. She gnaws on her lower lip and stares at him for several seconds, but then dips her head with a bashful expression. After a moment, he suspects to gather her thoughts, she looks back up at him, a shy smile on her face.

She blows out a breath and then her shy smile blooms into one of the brightest he’s ever seen. “God, Matt.” She stops and shakes her head. “It’s always been you.”

It takes him a moment to catch her meaning and understand her words but once he does he mirrors her smile right back at her. “What?”

“I thought I felt something for you before Kyle proposed but that night at Molly’s you seemed so certain that he and I were--”

Matt groans miserably and presses the heel of his hands into his eyes. “Let’s not talk about how horribly I stepped in it that night, okay?”

She laughs softly and nods. “Okay. But after that I thought it was all in my head. Then I came back from Fowlerton and it seemed like maybe it wasn’t until…” She lets her sentence fade and puts every bit of her meaning into her stare. “Until _last fall_ and then--I just wasn’t sure what you wanted or whether you were being a good friend or genuinely interested in me. But all along, _for me_ , through Kyle or Ryan -- who, by the way, I went on _one_ very awkward date with, it’s _always_ been you.”

“So, this whole time we’ve been…”

“On the same page?” She supplies when he loses track of the sentence.

He grins and nods. “Yeah, yeah, I like that. On the same page.”

“So,” she says, stepping closer to him. “Now what?”

Her gaze has turned heated and her tongue slips out to run across her bottom lip, drawing his attention. His heart starts thumping against his ribs and his blood warms in his veins. He’s sure his eyes have darkened and the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up because she’s making him feel something he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

It’s more abiding than attraction. 

It’s headier than friendship.

It’s a _need_ not a _want_.

It’s that all encompassing feeling of _needing_ to be wrapped up in one person so completely that you memorize every inch of them -- that there’s almost a question of where they end and you begin. He hasn’t _yearned_ for something that stable in _years_.

Not until now. Not until the things he wants with her are on the verge of being a reality. That feeling of impending epiphany is back. Right there on the edge of consciousness, as if there’s some revelation that he hasn’t had yet.

Right here and right now, he knows exactly what he needs and _knows_ he’s going to keep on needing it for a long time to come.

He reaches out a hand and cups her cheek. He watches her lean into his touch and close her eyes.

“For the record,” he says, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers. “I want to always have you in my life, Sylvie Brett, and I plan to do whatever I can to make sure that happens.”

“Yeah?” She asks, opening her eyes into his with a teasing grin. “Does that include throwing yourself out of a moving firetruck and vaulting over the side of an overpass?”

He sighs through a wry chuckle and then grimaces. “Let me guess, Kidd told you?”

She snorts indelicately. It’s far cuter than it should be. “Half the _house_ told me before Kidd ever brought it up. Do I need to lecture you on cowboy heroics?”

“Absolutely not,” he replies. “Won’t happen again.”

“Yes, it will,” she fires back with an eye roll.

“Yeah, it probably will,” he states with a sheepish grin. “Can’t be helped.”

She laughs softly at him and while she does he brings his free hand to her other cheek, framing her face and delicately tracing his thumbs across her cheekbones. “So, I, um, I was thinking.”

“Yeah?” 

“I still need a date to the Molly’s Patio opening. We could start there, get dinner afterwards?”

“Sounds perfect,” she agrees, wrapping her hands around his wrists. “I just have one suggestion.”

“What’s that?”

Her eyes roam his face, coming to a stop on his lips. “We should make out. _Right_ now.”

Laughter rolls out of him at the sight of her cheeky grin and mischievous eyes. “Who am I to say no to that?”

Her face softens and she brings her smile to hover over his, purposefully bumping his nose as she teases him. “You’re Matt Casey,” she answers. “My _date_ to a very important social event on Friday night. And I think that’s pretty important.”

As they’ve been flirting, she’s released his wrists and slowly snaked her arms around his back. On the word _important_ she uses that hold to yank him forward, pressing her lips to his in the sweetest most joyful kiss he’s experienced to date. One kiss becomes two and two becomes three until he’s walking her backwards toward her couch. They trip and fall clumsily onto the sofa. 

She laughs against his mouth and the feeling of it affects him like effervescent bubbles in a glass of champagne. Giddy and addictive. 

He’s not fooling himself. He knows it won’t be easy. They’ll face obstacles. They’ve faced plenty on their own so it makes sense they won’t stop just because they’ve decided to face them together. But he’s starting to think that feeling of an impending epiphany -- that revelation he hasn’t had yet -- _is her_. They’re on the verge of something great and he plans to see it through.

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** I DO NOT think that Matt and Severide scene is going to happen in the episode. I just really wanted to write it because it’s on my season 9 wish list to have Severide help Matt sort through his BIG BRETT FEELS, lol. 
> 
> Hope you liked it!


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